


It's Okay to be Nervous

by jesuisherve



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Gay Male Character, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Nervousness, Older Man/Younger Man, Panic Attacks, Public Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1733642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuisherve/pseuds/jesuisherve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it’s the way he’s glancing at me that tells me how fuckin crazy I look. Yeah, it’s definitely that. I guess I don’t have as good a handle on myself as I thought. </p><p>He takes another sideways look at me before saying: “Jesus, are you okay?”</p><p>--</p><p>Freddy has a panic attack and White waits it out with him and helps calm him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Okay to be Nervous

Maybe it’s the way he’s glancing at me that tells me how fuckin crazy I look. Yeah, it’s definitely that. I guess I don’t have as good a handle on myself as I thought.

He takes another sideways look at me before saying: “Jesus, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I force myself to reply. But really, I’m not. I’m starting to panic. We’ve just cased out the diamond place for the third time and fuck it’s really hitting me about what’s gonna happen. I’m sitting here in a car with a career criminal (a career criminal I’ve really started to like goddamn it) and it’s hot outside and worse in the car even though the sun’s about down, and I feel like we’re cookin in here and it’s hard to breathe with the heat and I know I chose undercover work; I ASKED for it, but fuck man I don’t know if this is such a good idea anymore. But it’s too late to back out, I’m in. I’m one of _them_ I guess, I checked out A-OK and now ‘Mr. Orange’ is runnin with the big boys.

 I’m gonna fuckin choke.

“You’re not okay,” White says. He’s driving, eyes staying mostly on the road but they keep flicking back to me. I move to catch a glimpse of my face in the side view mirror, all casual like, and I am not happy with what I see. I’m sweating more than I should be even though it’s hot, my eyes look wild like a cornered cat or something and I’m pale. Paler than usual. No wonder White picked up on how I’m feeling. I’m an open book.

What if they didn’t buy my story? If I can’t even hide a panic attack, what if Joe and Nice Guy Eddie and White didn’t actually believe my Commode Story, what if they’re stringing me along cuz they know I’m undercover and who the fuck knows what they can do with that information fuck me I’m so fucked oh fuck—

“I’m takin you to your apartment,” White says gruffly. “You look like shit and you’re startin to shake.”

“No,” it comes out weakly and I cough to cover it. “I don’t wanna go back there right now. Just drop me off wherever, I can walk.” The thought of my apartment is suffocating. Nothing to do there but sit around and wait for my phone to ring. I’m always waiting on calls from Holdaway and Eddie and White. I can’t take that right now. It’s too stressful, especially since I’m freakin on whether or not my cover is still secure.

White touches my knee and I jump. “I’m not leaving you on the corner,” White says. His tone is aghast, and I know he’s putting it on for my benefit, to lighten the tension. I try to give him a smile, and it’s not that hard because there’s something about him that makes me smile anyway. He cups the back of my neck for a moment and he runs his thumb just below my hairline.

“We could go to my place.”

 I’ve been to White’s place plenty of time these past few weeks and it’s been mostly to share his bed, which is mind blowing on its own, but tonight I can’t. I’m shaking visibly now and the panicky feeling still has my chest in a death grip. He takes my silence as a ‘no’. I’m thankful for that because I don’t have the words ( _the_ _words_? No, the guts) to describe how I’m not okay and how if White pushed me for anything sexual I might burst into panic induced tears. I don’t want to admit that to him cuz what kind of pussy says ‘ _no I might cry’_? Fuck that.

“Wanna drive around til you feel better?” White asks.

I nod.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” White says. He’s turned the radio down a little. “I was nervous as fuck my first big job. Almost puked.”

“Liar,” I say hoarsely. I can’t imagine him being nervous. He’s cool. I appreciate the lie anyway.

White shrugs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as we cruise through evening traffic. “Believe what you want, I guess.” He signals left and changes lanes. “Anyone who doesn’t get at least some nerves before a job is a fuckin liar or a goddamn idiot.”

I close my eyes and listen to him talk about people he’s worked with, unnamed people I’ll never meet from different states, people who’ve tried to show they weren’t scared and fucked up cuz of it. He tries to keep it as vague as possible, Joe did say to keep the chitchat minimal, but I’m not listening enough to glean anything from it, great undercover cop that I am. My shaking has gone down a little, but my hands are still trembling. I pretend to be calm, fake it til you make it right, but it isn’t working very well because White puts his hand on my knee again and asks what I need.

“A cigarette,” is what I say. _A hug_ is what I don’t.

He offers me one of his and I take it. Normally I smoke Red Apples but right now smoking his brand is as close to being comforted by him as I’m gonna get. I inhale the smoke and I hold it in my mouth and the smell in my nose. It makes me think of his hands, callused but gentle, and how it feels to have them on me. He’s always warm, he said something about good circulation once, but it’s exactly what I need to suppress this fuckin panic attack. But I don’t wanna ask if I can hold his hand. It’s too close to being a “couple”, and just too close in general. Suckin his dick and getting my ass pounded are different. We have a good time, and I like him, but it’s a different kind of intimacy. I can’t explain it. Either way, hand holding is for faggots whereas getting fucked senseless somehow gets a pass. Fuck I don’t even make sense to myself anymore.

“I got an idea,” White says and I tune back in.

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t say anything else, he just smiles a little.

Eventually we pull up to a goddamn drive-in movie. “What the fuck?” I ask.

“You’re too antsy to go home, or to my place, and I’m not gonna leave you alone,” White says as he passes money to a skinny teenage boy standing in a sort of ticket booth. The kid hands back some change and tells us the radio station to switch to for the sound. I read once that there used to have been speakers set up that played the movie’s sounds but some theaters switched to having radio stations so moviegoers could just listen in the car. Helped out with noise pollution problems.

I’m surprised at how many people are at the drive-in. It makes me panic a little more, they’re all potential witnesses to my meltdown, but White parks far back in a corner. He kills the engine and says: “I’m getting in the back seat. If you wanna join me come on, but if you wanna stay there I won’t be offended.” Then he gets out and stretches. His shirt rides up a little as he does and I see a flash of his stomach. My heart stops doing the panic mambo for a second and does a tiny jittery leap.

White gets in the back seat and settles a little to the side. He props one foot up on the middle console of the car and scans the big movie screen. I peer at him over my shoulder. He doesn’t seem to be looking at me. He’s letting me make up my mind on what I want to do. Relief floods me. He’s not pressuring me to do one thing or the other, even though he probably wants me in that back seat. I think about what could go on, what _usually_ goes on when two people are hot for each other and ‘watching a movie’, but I don’t think that he’ll make a move unless I say it’s okay. Like I said, White’s cool, he’s fuckin _great_ cuz I don’t know a lot of guys who would do that, queer or straight or whatever. I know as a teenager I would be pesterin whoever I was with for at least a hand job, but I was a fuckin prick in high school.

Now that I’m the one who needs space, I’m really glad that White’s a—

_gentleman_

— a cool guy.

I adjust the radio’s volume before getting out to sit in the back. White gives me a level look, a real slow crawling type look, like he’s studying me. He pats his side. It’s an invitation to cuddle up and I only hesitate a moment before accepting it. He slings his arm around me as I lean my head on his chest. The weight of his arm is reassuring and he smells good. His hand is resting on my hip and I half expect him to put it on my crotch but he doesn’t and I let my body go loose. I’ve mostly stopped shaking. He must have felt me relax cuz White looks down and smiles. Warmth explodes in my stomach at it. He runs his other hand over my forehead, pushing my hair back.

“Just relax baby,” he tells me. “Watch the movie. You’re good.”

“That’s nice,” I murmur.

“What, this?” he asks, running his hand through my hair again.

“Yeah.”

He combs my hair sometimes, I dunno if it’s his way of being affectionate cuz we’re banging, or he just likes takin care of pathetic kids like me, but I like this best. I close my eyes so I have no idea what movie is playing, and I don’t think White does either, cuz he’s stopped petting my hair and now he’s holding one of my hands. I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would and to be honest it feels as nice and assuring as I thought it would. His other hand is slipped under my shirt. It’s not sexual; it’s more like... like what, what’s that word? _Tactile comfort._ He’s just tracing my skin, rubbing circles with his thumb on my waist above my jeans. His hand adjusts a little to the side over my stomach but he keeps rubbing and it’s fucking soothing as shit. I can hear his heart beating and it’s totally even, completely normal, so he’s not expecting anything from me, he’s just _being._

I zone out for awhile. His breathing has calmed me right down, and the way he’s touching me. All comfort, all warm. My hand is still clasped in his and I squeeze it. He squeezes back.

“Comfy?” he asks.

“Uh-huh.”

I turn so I’m more on my back than my side. White’s hand is splayed on my stomach now. I tug my hand out of his grasp and reach up to hook the back of his head. I pull him down and he laughs and bends willingly as I prop myself up. I press a kiss to his mouth. “How’s my baby doin?” he says after a moment, lips moving against mine.

“Lot better,” I say, feeling red creeping into my cheeks. I always get hot n flustered when he calls me ‘baby’. It just sounds nice comin from him, y’know? It’s a stupid nickname and I don’t want to think that we’re a couple but I know I’m his and I guess he’s mine so I don’t mind being his baby as long as the other guys don’t hear him say it. “I wanna kiss you some more,” I tell him.

“Then come up here and do it. My neck’s getting sore.”

I let go of his neck and I sit up. He’s lookin at me and this time I know I don’t look crazy anymore, but I probably look like a bright-eyed high school kid who’s gonna get some for the first time. White smoothes my hair back and says “Come sit in my lap.”

I do it without thinking. I straddle his hips the best I can, we’re cramped in the back seat a little, but he’s got his hands on my ass and I’m kissin him and he’s kissin me back. The kisses start off slow, closemouthed and firm, but I can’t help myself and I’m using my tongue and he opens his mouth to me. I’m diggin the noises he’s making, deep rumbling in his chest and low moans, and I’m sure he likes the noises I’m making cuz he’s got one hand moved up my shirt and the other is grabbing my ass still. He’s rolling his hips a little and I can feel his hardon through his jeans _Christ_ this man gets me horny. Earlier today I was too rattled to even think about sex but White’s worked his magic and I’m calm, well not _calm_ cuz I’m getting excited, but I’m not panicking about anything and I’m good to go.

Guys who suspect guys of being a fuckin rat don’t take those suspected rats to drive-in movies like an old school date to make out in the back seat of a car. It’s just common sense.

“C’mon baby,” he’s saying, “show Daddy what you can do.”

 _Fuuuck_ that sets me off. He’s never called himself ‘Daddy’ around me before and fuck if it isn’t one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard and I’m whining wordlessly at him, just making fucking noises with no meaning besides _‘get your hands on me and don’t take ‘em off.’_ I’d be ashamed if I wasn’t so horny. I rock my hips against him, and I know White can feel how hard my dick is cuz he’s kissing my neck the way he knows drives me wild. It’s gentle with no teeth or sucking cuz I don’t want visible hickeys. He can be rough below the neck but this is his warm-up cuz if he does it long enough I start begging for him to hurry the fuck up and do something before I go crazy.

Speaking of doing something, he’s waitin for me to do just that and I’m not sure what, but White’s a patient guy and he’s got his hand under my jeans and boxers but over my ass and I’m still grinding on him. He calls me baby again and there’s a click in the back of my mind.

“Daddy,” I gasp as his tongue glides up my neck. He growls and takes the hand from my back and rakes it through my hair, catching some of it and pulling. He’s grabbed close to my scalp so the pain isn’t unbearable but it’s deep and it makes me moan with satisfaction.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “You want Daddy to take care of you?”

“Yes,” I whimper, oh fuckin Christ do I _ever_ want Daddy to take care of me. My face is burning and my cock is straining and my whole body is hot and sweat is making my shirt stick to me a little. White helps me off his lap and eases me so I’m lying down on the back seat. He’s right between my legs, I’ve got one foot planted on the floor of the car and my other leg is pinned between the seat and his body. White’s undoing my belt, my jeans, and he’s pulling them down so I lift my hips to help him out. He wraps his hand around my cock and gives it a light stroke.

See this is what I need now that the panic attack has passed and I got the hand holding I was craving. I consider making a joke about a different kind of hand holding but White’s stroking my cock and his other hand is gripping my hip and that's too distracting and he wouldn't understand why I think it's funny anyway. He’s looking at me dead in the eyes and I can’t look away from him and he’s stroking, petting, me so slow. I’m burning up, I might actually combust, “ _Flame On”_ y’know what I mean?

“I wanna hear you say it,” White says, his lips curled in a smile. Even now he looks so genuine, so _nice,_ like I could introduce him to my grandmother and she’d ask if he wanted to come to church with us. This thought makes me flush even redder if that’s possible and he’s slowed to the point that he’s almost stopped.

I can’t let that happen, he feels so good, I need him to keep going. “Please take care of me Daddy,” the words leave my mouth and I do feel a stab of shame this time but he quickens the rhythm of his hand and tells me “good boy” so I don’t think about it too long.

He’s callin me beautiful and telling me how I’m his baby and what a good boy I am and how he’s always gonna take care of me and, fuck, I cum quick and hard with my fist jammed in my mouth so I don’t scream or make too much noise. When my body stops shuddering, and my mind cuz let’s be honest I blanked out for a sec, I look over at White and he’s wiped my cum from his hand already with a napkin that came with lunch earlier that day. He’s opening his own jeans and I remember that he’s got his own hardon that needs attention. I scramble to get my pants back on and he’s pumping his dick and looking at me. So I sit up and I spit into my palm and I say, “Let me do it.”

White lets me jerk him off and he has a fist in my hair and he’s kissin me at the same time. My lips are gonna be swollen for a good while after this but I don’t care. I’m only thinkin about him and how good he tastes, how good he always feels.

“Oh baby,” he groans when he cums, “oh baby boy you’re so good,” cuz callin me ‘Orange’ would probably be as weird for him as it would be for me so callin me baby boy is a good compromise. I lick his cum from my fingers, which I don’t really like doing but I know he sees me doing it and I know it’s something he likes so I do it because, hey, it won’t kill me.

He fixes his jeans and slumps back, leaning against the door of the car. “C’mere.”

I’m on my stomach with my legs stretched as much as they can over the seat, so I wrap my arms around his middle and cushion my head on his chest for the second time this night. He’s petting my hair again, which feels so great, and he’s asking me if I can reach his cigarettes cuz he left them up front by the gear shift. I don’t wanna move but I get them anyway and he fishes a lighter out of my pocket. The windows of the car are kinda steamy so I concede to move one more time and we get the back windows rolled down a piece to cool off. The movie’s still playing, but it’s close to over and I could not tell you what’s going on. There’s a good lookin guy talking to a pretty girl but I don’t know their names or where they are.

White asks if I want a drag off his smoke and I shake my head. He sucks in some smoke and blows a puff of it in my face teasingly. “Fine,” I say, “gimme.” He hands me the cigarette and I pull on it once, twice, before giving it back.

I guess I fell asleep for a bit cuz he shakes my shoulder and I startle. “Movie’s over,” he tells me.

“Oh,” I yawn.

“You wanna go home or you wanna come over?” he asks when we get out of the back to hop in the front of the car.

I think it over. I’m exhausted. “Your place if we’re actually sleeping,” I said. “I need it.”

“Of course,” White says and I know he’s telling the truth and that he won’t try anything else unless I want it, and it’s a replay of what’s transpired in the back seat of his car only minutes ago but it’s good repetition.

I guess I’m kinda in love with the guy, and that’s definitely against the rules and I know it can only end badly cuz he’s gonna wind up in jail and he’s gonna hate me for being the fuckin rat, and that hurts more than anything; the thought that someday White’s gonna hate me even though I fucking love him but we’re both just doing our jobs, right? What else am I supposed to do? There’s an element of risk that comes with breakin the law and this time _I’m_ the element, and part of me wishes I never said that I wanted to do undercover work. It’s the part that blushes when he calls me baby, the part that totally digs calling him Daddy, and the part that wants his kiss worse than anything.

I tell my reflection in the mirror that I won’t get hurt on days I’m feeling nervous when White picks me up and I know I’m lying to myself. Maybe I won’t get shot, or maimed or some fuckin thing, but I know that somewhere down the line I’m gonna get fuckin hurt and will hurt him, too.

It’s called heartbreak for a reason, right?


End file.
